Sex With a Man from X

[I originally wrote this for Kat's Sex Blog Chain, but I forgot to post it.]

There are distinct advantages and disadvantages to living a stone's throw from the nation's capital. One of the disadvantages is that this area is a prime target for terrorists. Nearly everyone I know knew someone (or knew someone who knew someone) who was at the Pentagon on 9/11. One of the advantages is that there are a lot of men who want to fuck outside of their marriage.

I should add that there are a lot of high-powered men who want to fuck outside of their marriage.

First, a bit of background. Due to my Dad's career, I grew up living the life of a globetrotter. I've lived and traveled all over the world. I've lived on the East Coast and the West Coast and places in between. I have been exposed to many different cultures and people. My Dad taught me early on not to be overly impressed by powerful or famous people. "They put their pants on one leg at a time."

Thanks to my Dad's levelheadedness, it takes a LOT to impress me. So much so that at this stage in my life, I honestly can't say that there is anyone or anything that would knock my socks off.

In other words, I didn't start slobbering when I met Joe.

I met Joe on Ashley Madison about six years ago. It was July and I was a newbie on the site and he claimed to be as well. Whether that was true, I know not. I was sitting at my computer one afternoon, trying to handle the influx of messages I was receiving, when I received a chat request from Joe (no, I am not giving away his user name!).

Joe told me that he lived a short distance from me (yes, at the time I was stupid enough to list my actual city). My curiosity piqued, we chatted for quite awhile. I gave him access to my private showcase.

(Back then, I had barely 128 pounds on my 5'9" frame and when Joe and I ran into each other a few years later and I was about 20 pounds heavier, he confessed that the added pounds suited me!)

He asked me whether I could see him that evening.

"This evening?" I was a little incredulous.

"Yes, I'm going out of town tomorrow."

"Where should we meet?" I asked.

"At my condo," he replied. He gave me the address and the name of the community.

I managed to pull a story together to tell my family my reason for going out that night.

I arrived at the entrance to his condo wearing a sleeveless white summer dress (no panties, of course!). He came down almost immediately when I buzzed him. We took the elevator, chit-chatting about this and that.

I confess that I liked what I saw. He was tall (at least 6'4" ), trim, dark hair, and impeccably dressed.

He ushered me down the hallway to the front door of his condo. The hallway looked more like the hallway of a luxury hotel. Paintings, mirrors, plush carpeting.

The condo was immaculate and gorgeous and huge. He obviously had wonderful taste and the money to indulge in the best furniture and art that money could buy. Framed glossy photos of him with the mucky mucks of the day dotted his condo. Curiously enough, one of the first things he pointed out to me was a small framed black and white photo of himself as a child with his Mom. I was touched.

We wandered into the kitchen. He offered me a glass of wine. While he poured the wine, I walked over to a floor to ceiling bookshelf stuffed with movies. All organized by genre and alphabetically.  I am a huge movie buff and I called out some titles to him, giving my thumbs up on his vast selection.

He handed me the wine.

"May I ask what you do for a living? Where is your wife?"

He hesitated for a split second.

"Sorry, I'm a woman. Simply curious."

"Sure. I understand." He paused. "I work for X. I was elected several years ago and I'm finishing up my term before I retire in a few years. My wife has a successful business in our home state, so she chose not to accompany me here."

"Do you see her often?"

"We take turns visiting. I fly home to see her, she flies here...usually on weekends."

A pause.

"But that's not why we're here, is it?"

I smiled.

He walked over to me, put his arms over my shoulders and drew me into him. He leaned down and we kissed. It was a deep, probing, electrifying kiss.

He pulled me toward the living room where all the lights were on. He closed the curtains. His condo overlooked another residential building across the street.

We stood kissing. His hand began to glide down the front of my dress. He gently pulled up the bottom up the dress and slid his hand up to my wet and wanting cunt.

"No panties," he murmured. "Fucking hot!"

He started to hand fuck me. Then he got down on his knees and gently spread my legs apart. He licked and sucked my clit and brought me to orgasm.

I thought that he would want me to suck his cock in the living room, but instead he took my hand and guided me to his bedroom.

He threw me down on the bed and pulled off his pants. Straddling my face, he began fucking my mouth with a vengeance. With each thrust he went deeper and deeper down my throat until I thought I was going to pass out. Each time he pulled out, I took one short gasping breath.

"You. Are. A. Fucking. Slut."

 As he got close to climaxing, my eyes began to water and I started to see stars. He came explosively, his cum shooting out and sliding deep down the back of my throat.

He pulled out of my mouth and collapsed on top of me.

"How did that feel?"

"Feel?" I laughed. "You mean before or after I thought I was going to pass out?"

We both laughed.

Over the course of the next few months, we had more encounters. I was always amazed, when we went out in public (discreetly, of course!) how he could command attention when he entered a room. A definite glad hander.

But what do you expect from an elected official?

Joe and I eventually went our separate ways. He is now retired, still married, living in his home state, and travels a lot. We are still in touch.

[I have to add that Drake, Joe, and I had a threesome about two years ago, before Joe moved back to his home state!]